


The Roof

by AtlasAffogato



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Developing Relationship, Gen, Mako has Issues, Wu isn't as much of an airhead as he seems, and i want to explore them, some late night introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:09:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27196952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtlasAffogato/pseuds/AtlasAffogato
Summary: "I didn't know you smoked.""Guess I was never really able to quit.""They say that will kill you, y'know?""Go away Wu.""I'll leave if you want me to, but for now I think you need someone to talk to."
Relationships: Mako/Prince Wu (Avatar), if you squint
Comments: 3
Kudos: 101





	The Roof

_“I miss Mom and Dad.”_

_“I know Bo.”_

_“I miss our apartment.”_

_“I know Bo.”_

_“I miss Dad’s dumplings, and I miss mom’s radio, and I miss our big fluffy blanket, and I miss being warm-”_

_“You’ll always be warm when I’m here.”_

_“But sometimes when you fall asleep I get cold.”_

_“Then I won’t fall asleep then.”_

_“But you have to sleep too.”_

_“I’ll be okay Bo, I promise.”_

_“Pinky promise?”_

_“Pinky promise.”_

_“Okay...”_

_…_

_“I miss Mom and Dad.”_

_“I know Bo, me too.”_

Mako takes a long pull off his cigarette, feeling the smoke and ash stick to his throat and swirl in his lungs. If he were an airbender, he could pull that smoke right out, stop all that lasting damage or cancer or other shit all those doctors warn about. But Mako’s not an airbender. So he lets the smoke sit in his lungs until his eyes water. He blows the smoke back out, whistling it between his teeth and shooting small embers after it. The embers get caught in the wind and fly off over the road and into open air.

The wind up on the roof bites at Mako’s skin, raising goosebumps. The wind howls in his ears. If he cared more, he might be concerned about being blown off, but he doesn’t, so Mako sits in a narrow crook, feet pushed against the gutter and the metal roof digging into his back. It would be easy to fall. To let his foot slip, his balance thrown off, and let the slanted roof carry him off. It would be so easy. _So easy._

Mako doesn’t budge his foot. 

He takes another drag of his cigarette and revels in the feeling of fire in his lungs. If he sparked it, he could breathe fire, just like the Dragons do. (He knows, he’s done it before.) Mako breathes out and lets the smoke pool around his face. He closes his eyes and leans his head back against the roof. He used to love the smell of smoke. (mother’s cooking, sparks flying from her fingertips when she told a spooky story, lighting and extinguishing candles over and over to demonstrate for Mako) 

He’s trying to love it again.

It's slow progress.

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

Mako bit his cigarette, spilling ash all over his tongue. He tried for a scowl but it was more of a grimace. He didn’t turn to look at Wu when he spoke.

“Guess I was never really able to quit.”

“They say that will kill you, y’know?” 

“I’m well aware.”

“Then why do you do it?” Mako turned at such a soft tone. Wu stood wrapped in his bed robes, hair ruffled and eyes shining. Barely awake. Wu stared at him, waiting for an answer, and Mako didn’t know what to say.

What do you say in this situation? ‘Yes I know smoking has killed people and will probably kill me too, but I picked it up on the streets and now it's the only thing that calms me down when I wake up in the middle of the night from nightmares.’

Mako said nothing. 

Wu sighed and looked away, fingers fiddling in his robes and adjusting slippered feet. “What are you doing out here Mako?” His eyes drifted off over the buildings, over the calm water of the bay. His voice held the same soft tone. _Gentle._ Mako dragged from his cigarette and hissed the smoke back out. 

“I come out here to be alone Wu, not for you to bother me.”

Mako looked away as soon as Wu’s eyes returned to him. “See, you say that,” Wu said, leaning forward on the balcony and looking over at Mako. “But I don’t think that’s true.” 

Mako bit his cheek. 

“Go away Wu.” He gritted out.

“I’ll leave if you want me to,” he said with that same damn _gentle voice_ “But for now I think you need someone to talk to.” 

Mako paused. And maybe it was the smoke, or the lack of sleep, or Wu’s damn soothing voice. But he considered it. 

“Do you ever think about dying?” He blurted out before he could stop himself. 

Wu seemed startled by the question, but he softened and brushed a strand of hair out of his face. “Of course,” he murmured, “it’s all I really think about, ever since Ba Sing Se.”

Mako stared at him. “Are you afraid?” he prompted, “To die?”

On other occasions, Wu might have said no with a bright smile, or cried yes as he weeped his fears and failures to the closest person. Any other Wu might have brushed the question off, or spoke on the temporary nature of life. Other Wu’s might look death in the face with a smile. 

But now, now Wu nodded. And looked away. “Yes,” he muttered. He snapped his gaze back up to Mako. “Are you?”

Mako swallowed and bit into his cigarette again. “Why do you do that?” He demanded. “Why do you act like a stupid airhead who doesn’t know what he’s talking about? Why do you do that? Why?” 

Wu didn’t look surprised, or offended. He looked sad. 

“Mako, you and I both know it’s easier to play a character then to let other people see us. Don’t we?” 

Mako blinked, cigarette hanging from his lips. A sharp ache started in his chest, one that hadn’t ached in years. “Oh Mako,” Wu continued, “big, strong, tough Mako. Always looking after someone else. When was the last time someone looked after you?” 

Mako’s throat was tight and his eyes watery. “I don’t need looking after.” He said hoarsely. 

Wu twisted his fingers in his robe. “Yeah,” he sighed. “Why don’t you come find me when you actually believe that.” He turned and slid the glass door open, stepping back into the suite. Leaving Mako alone. 

Alone. 

_Always alone._

The wind bites at his skin and raises goosebumps. He tosses the cigarette butt off into the streets below. Mako climbs down from his perch and heads inside, to somewhere he doesn’t need to brace his feet.


End file.
